


Knight + Prince + Loyalty

by violetvaria



Series: Knight + Prince AU [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Friend Wilt Bozer (MacGyver TV 2016), Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Origin Story, POV Alternating, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Short Chapters, child!Bozer, child!Mac, medieval royalty AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: Sir Jack Dalton worked for nearly a year to return to a child he had vowed to protect. He bargained, called in favors, pandered to the nobility, bribed a lord. But it was all worth it when he was appointed bodyguard to His Royal Highness, Prince Angus.He hadn't counted on the prince not wanting him there.~~~set in just_another_outcast's Forbidden AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Forbidden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893) by [just_another_outcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast). 



> With thanks to the gifted and generous just_another_outcast for creating and sharing this AU! Reading her story [**Forbidden**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893) is highly recommended to understand this universe.
> 
> Thanks also to everyone who requested more of young Prince Angus!
> 
> There are several references herein to my earlier story [**Knight + Prince**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945258), but it is not completely necessary to read that one first.
> 
> This variation on the Forbidden AU is mostly faithful to the original with two major differences:  
> 1\. Jack and Angus meet much earlier, and Jack is the prince's first bodyguard. This means Angus never knew Peña (who is given a small alternate role near the end). The restriction on close relationships between royals and those who serve them is already in place.  
> 2\. Angus's grandfather does not exist. No explanation, no mention of him; he's just not there because...Angus needs to be even more isolated and lonely than he already is? Sorry.
> 
> Please expect zero historical or cultural accuracy.

_It’s my fault. They’re dead, and it’s all my fault._

Prince Angus staggered out of the warren of rooms that housed the castle archives, barely noticing when he emerged from the musty undercroft into bright sunlight. He didn’t feel the fresh breeze, didn’t hear the harsh cries of the swans that lived on the palace grounds, didn’t see the dance of butterflies over the lush gardens. He knew only one thing.

_My fault._

_My fault._

_My fault._

He stumbled over some pebbles but didn’t notice the jeers of the young pages across the courtyard, deriding his clumsiness, his scrawny awkwardness, his lonely life of near-exile. He’d heard all the names they hurled at him before anyway. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

When Angus’s feet found their way to his favorite spruce tree, the prince grabbed at the branches, welcoming the sharp needles that dug into his palms. He deserved to hurt.

He laughed at himself bitterly. He was as stupid as his fa—as everyone said he was. How could he have ever imagined that there wouldn’t be consequences for rebelling against the king?

And Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston had paid the price.

_My fault._

He hadn’t even paid his respects at their funerals. Hadn’t done anything for their families. All because he was prince in name only, and no one would bother telling him anything that happened in castle. He still wouldn’t know except his tutor had finally approved a trip to the archives, and he had innocently asked after the nobles he knew worked and studied there. Like an idiot, he’d actually been looking _forward_ to seeing them, to saying thank-you, to telling them he was fine.

Because he _was_ fine. Being ignored was nothing new. In fact, being ignored by the king was far better than receiving his attention, and if that meant the other members of court ignored the young prince as well, it was still fine. The pranks and taunts from the other children in the palace were mean-spirited, but Angus knew royalty must rise above the petty concerns of the lower classes. At least, that’s what he’d always been told, and it was sometimes the only thing that let him hold his chin up as he crossed the courtyard.

So things were fine.

But they weren’t fine for the three nobles.

_My fault._

Angus huddled in the lower branches of the spruce tree for the rest of the afternoon, mind simultaneously racing and feeling blank. He needed to do something to make it right. He needed to atone for the sacrifice they had made for him.

For _him_. He didn’t deserve that kind of loyalty.

But for once, the prince could think of nothing that could be done.

Several hours later, he heard a footman discreetly calling for him, wandering the many paths through the palace grounds in hopes of spotting the young prince. Angus felt a dull shock of guilt. He had been supposed to return to his tutor’s quarters. Duke Lemière was a kindly, forgetful elderly gentleman, but apparently even he had finally recognized the disappearance of his royal charge.

At least Groves, the duke’s favorite messenger, never sneered or subtly insulted Angus, as some of the castle servants did. The prince slowly dragged himself away from his hiding spot and allowed the footman to see him.

“Your Highness.” The voice was, perhaps, not strictly subservient, but it was impersonal and disinterested, which Angus appreciated. The workers who didn’t mock him to his face were sometimes overly curious about the details of the royal’s life so they could gossip in the servants’ hall. “His Grace requires your immediate presence.”

Angus nodded and made his way to the study. It was past time for his daily lessons to be finished, but Lemière oversaw the prince’s schedule, and Angus felt too numb to question the change.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Angus,” the footman announced softly before exiting.

“Ah, Your Highness.” Duke Lemière turned, removing his hand from his wispy beard and allowing himself a faint smile. “I have news for you.”

“Your Grace,” the prince returned quietly, waiting. _News_ was not usually good, but it wasn’t so obviously bad that his absentminded tutor had picked up on it.

“Your father, the king—”

Angus winced.

“—has determined it is time for you to have a royal bodyguard.”

The prince’s mouth dropped. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

Lemière glowed with satisfaction, apparently mistaking his student’s shock for delight. “Yes! You are eleven years old now, and you will have a dedicated bodyguard during waking hours.”

The tutor continued rambling, listing the duties of the prince’s new guard, but Angus wasn’t really listening. He understood what this really was. This was another way to oversee the prince, to ensure he was adhering to his father’s decrees, a task for which Lemière was not really equipped.

He wasn’t getting a bodyguard. He was being given a jailer.

He barely heard his tutor saying something about the attempted attacks that had plagued the king since he started his royal tour through the northern territories two days earlier, and then Lemière was clapping his hands, and a small door at the side of the room was opening.

And for the second time that day, Angus felt his heart stop.

“Your Highness, may I present Sir Jack Dalton. Your new bodyguard.”

Angus stared dumbly. It _couldn’t_ be. The knight was standing correctly at attention, face impassive, but his brown eyes—eyes that were familiar—were warm and lively as they caught the prince’s stare.

“Your Highness,” the knight greeted, and his voice, too, was warm and familiar, and Angus had to clench his fists to keep from trembling.

Sir Dalton stepped forward and dropped to one knee, and Angus automatically extended a hand. Strong fingers clasped his as the knight bent his head and kissed his signet ring. And the warm, familiar touch of that hand removed all doubt.

_He came back._

Dazed, he looked up from their joined hands to see the knight quirking a very faint smile at him, so slight Duke Lemière wouldn’t notice, even were he watching. When Angus continued his silent inspection, Sir Dalton tilted his head a little, a clear question. _Do you remember me?_

True, it had been almost a year since Angus had last seen the knight, but he could never forget the man who had shown him more kindness in one night than he’d received in years. He had thought he would never see Sir Dalton—Jack—again.

_He came back. For me._

And like a wave of icy water, the memory of others who had done something for the prince crashed over him. Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston had tried to help the boy too. And look what had happened to them.

In an instant, Angus had schooled his features and spoke in his haughtiest mien. “Sir Dalton.” He removed his hand from the knight’s, feeling a pang of loss but not allowing it to show. He caught the brief flicker of puzzlement across the man’s face, but the knight glanced over at Lemière and rose, standing at attention.

“Well, Your Highness, this is good news, is it not?” Lemière was still smiling.

Angus replied dutifully but sullenly, “Indeed, Your Grace.”

The tutor, partially deaf, did not take in the boy’s tone. “Excellent. It is late. Sir Dalton shall accompany you to your chambers before retiring for the evening. I believe he has been placed in the quarters nearest your own.”

Angus gritted his teeth.

“And a night watchman shall now be stationed in the hall near your door,” Lemière continued blithely. “You shall be thoroughly protected, Your Highness.”

Angus felt the knight shift, but he didn’t look up. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Then they were dismissed, and Angus was alone in the hall with his new guardian. Jack paused, trying to meet the prince’s eyes, but Angus refused to look at him.

“Your Highness,” the knight began softly.

Angus shook his head sharply. “Don’t—don’t talk to me.”

Jack twitched in surprise but didn’t argue. Instead, he led the way through the halls, stopping at each corner to scan the area until they were almost to the prince’s chambers. Angus could see a knight already stationed near his door, and he scowled.

“I will come for you in the morning, Your Highness.”

Angus bit his lip to prevent himself from responding to the gentle voice and nodded sharply once.

There was a long, thoughtful pause. “Sleep well, Prince Angus.”

Angus stumbled blindly into his quarters without a word. He rarely slept well, and he knew for sure that tonight would not be one of his better nights. In fact, the last time he had slept without waking, without being hounded by nightmares…had been when he’d first met Jack, and Jack had stayed with him as he slumbered.

That could never be permitted again. Angus had learned what happened to those who tried to protect the prince, who were loyal to him instead of to his father. He couldn’t let that happen to anyone else. Especially not to Jack.

Angus curled up on his bed, burying his face in his pillow to silence his sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

Sir Jack Dalton couldn’t believe how ridiculously antsy he was. He hadn’t been this nervous since before his first archery competition, hadn’t been this excited since the day he was dubbed a knight. For the first time in years, he had to forcibly keep his hands and feet still. It would hardly be appropriate for a royal bodyguard to be tapping his foot as he waited for his new assignment.

And not just any assignment.

Jack turned to scan the castle grounds through the narrow window in the small chamber attached to Duke Lemière’s study. It had been a long, difficult road, but he had finally made it.

_I promised I’d protect you, Angus._

He wasn’t sure the young prince would recognize him. It had taken Jack nearly a year of bargaining, calling in favors, pandering to the nobility, and exercising brute stubbornness to get himself noticed by the king, doing so at the same time one of his advisers—one who could be bought with enough gold—mentioned that perhaps the prince was old enough to have his own guard. Jack had coached the nobleman carefully, not sure which argument would sway the king, and though Lord Avencii hadn’t bothered reporting back, Jack suspected from his brief interview with the king that the main reason a bodyguard had been hired was to limit the prince’s freedom, to conform him into a “proper” heir.

If Jack had to pretend to be a genteel spy for the king, so be it. He had protected Angus from his father before, and he could do it again.

He heard the creak of the outer door and the murmur of voices, and he paced a few steps to release some pent-up energy. He was so close. And then Duke Lemière signaled for him, and he was face-to-face with Prince Angus.

Jack was sure his heart stopped before starting again at twice its normal speed. The boy in front of him was exactly as he’d remembered—perhaps too much so, the critical part of his mind thought. The prince was perhaps slightly taller but had clearly not yet hit a growth spurt. He was not quite so emaciated but was still too thin. At least, from the way he held himself, Jack didn’t think he was sporting any bruises, but the shadows under his eyes haunted the knight with memories of a child afraid of the dark, with no one to comfort him.

_That’s going to change, son._

Jack was thankful to kneel, worried his legs might give out on him now that he was finally here. But the blue eyes that met his were as intelligent as ever, and Jack was delighted to see they showed no fear. He offered the boy a tiny smile, mindful of their audience, although he had already deduced that Lemière noticed very little.

“Your Highness,” he said, trying to convey in just those words how glad he was to be here, that all the anxiety and work over the past several months had been worth it. Truthfully, he was surprised by the force of his own emotion. All along, he had been considering the prince’s safety, feeling honor-bound to pledge his loyalty to the young royal, to take care of him so that the boy was not just kept from physical danger but that he _felt_ safe. He had pictured himself scouting for threats, accompanying Angus wherever he went, telling him again how brave and smart he knew the prince could be.

But he hadn’t realized he would ache to gather the child in his arms.

Jack was just vowing to himself that he would do exactly that at the first opportunity when he realized Angus had withdrawn his hand stiffly, face blank. Jack was puzzled. He was sure he’d seen a flash of recognition. Ah. Lemière. The clever boy understood the true nature of his bodyguard’s assignment, and he was being careful not to reveal his prior relationship with a knight hired to monitor his behavior.

Jack stood and listened gravely as the tutor dismissed them. He had been shown around the castle earlier, the prince’s routine explained to him. He was pleased that his quarters were so close to the prince’s, although with a night watchman, he wasn’t likely to be able to spend any time with Angus after dark. It was a small matter. He would make sure the boy felt safe and—yes— _cared for_ before he left him on his own each evening.

As soon as they were alone in the hall, Jack tried again. “Your Highness.”

The child flinched away from his voice. “Don’t—don’t talk to me.”

Jack stepped back in shock. The boy sounded…angry? Afraid? Did he truly not remember Jack at all? Or was he just worried about being overheard?

The knight fell into a thoughtful silence, automatically moving in front of the boy and sweeping for threats as they walked. He nodded at the bored-looking guard posted near the prince’s new chambers—and when had he been moved to this nearly abandoned wing of the castle?—and he hesitated, wishing he could reach out to the child, if only to ruffle his soft blond hair or pat his shoulder.

Instead, he merely wished the prince goodnight, promising to return in the morning.

_Any every morning after that. I’m here for good._

“Sir Dalton.”

Jack turned sharply at the address. It took him a moment to place the castle servant. “Groves.”

The footman bowed his head a fraction. “I come with a message from His Grace.” He cocked his head toward the closed door. “Is His Highness…?”

“His Highness is preparing for rest.”

“Without guard?”

The door shutting in his face dug like a knife wound in his side. “He is protected,” Jack snapped, gesturing toward the knight standing at attention halfway down the hall.

Groves immediately ducked his head again. “Of course, sir.”

“Your message? I can relay it to the prince.”

“It is simply a matter of exercise. His Grace believes His Highness would benefit from more activity.”

Jack nodded along, glad that his presence was already making positive changes in the prince’s schedule. He hoped Angus would see it the same way.

“Thank you, Groves.”

“Sir.”

The footman melted away silently, and Jack found his own quarters down the hall. He stared out over the small balcony into the night, wondering if Angus were doing the same thing.

He was finally here, where he needed to be. But his heart sank as he recalled how the prince had refused to even look him in the eyes as he slipped into his room, and Jack wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

 

~~~

 

The next morning, Jack exchanged a few stiffly polite words with the night guard, who left immediately after reporting no unusual activity. Jack watched him go before stepping up to the prince’s door, impatient to allay his fears that Angus didn’t want him there. He could guarantee that no one would be watching right now, and he and Angus could—

He rapped on the door. Technically, he wouldn’t need to; he didn’t need permission to walk into any room where the prince was, but he didn’t want to surprise the child who wasn’t yet accustomed to a constant bodyguard.

The door flew open with more energy than he’d expected, and he was met with a child’s broad smile and shining eyes.

“Jack!” the boy nearly squealed.

The knight’s mouth dropped open, and then he let out a deep laugh. “Wilt Bozer!” He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that serving the prince meant he would also be reunited with the young valet. He dropped to his knees when Wilt opened his arms, and he gathered the boy in a giant bear hug, tension melting away. He remembered how close Angus and Wilt were. If Wilt was this happy to see him, surely the prince would be as well.

“How have you been keeping yourself, Master Bozer?”

Wilt was still grinning. “I am well, Sir Dalton,” he mimicked the playful formality. “And you?”

“I am—” Jack’s smile faltered, and he patted the boy’s shoulder one last time. “I am eager to see His Highness. Is he awake?”

Wilt’s expression dropped so quickly that Jack would have found it comical in other circumstances. “Um…yes. He—he said he would be out in a few minutes.”

“Out?” Jack cocked his head. “I could—” He gestured toward the room.

Wilt shook his head. “No, um, he…that’s what he told me.”

Jack sighed and then was struck by a new thought. “Did he tell you I was coming?”

Wilt nodded vigorously. “Yes! I _knew_ you were a good friend. I always told him—” The boy’s eyes widened, and he covered his mouth with both hands.

“What is it, lad?”

“Um…I mean, I don’t know that—that he really remembers.” The valet was speaking too carefully, as though reciting a story he had been told.

“He doesn’t remember me?”

Dark eyes slid away. “I—I’m not sure.” Wilt licked his lips and then blurted, “He just told me a knight was coming. He didn’t say who it was or anything.”

Jack almost wanted to laugh at the child’s lie, but his chest was constricting painfully. The most likely reason for Angus to pretend he didn’t remember Jack was if he thought Jack was now working for the king. Which he was, in a way, but not with any intention to bring trouble for the prince.

“Wilt Bozer.”

The boy looked back at him.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The child’s face brightened at the thought of sharing something with his newly returned friend. “Yes!”

Jack hid a smile. “Are you sure?”

Wilt was practically bouncing on his feet now. “Yes! I won’t tell anybody!”

“Well…” Jack looked left and right and then winked conspiratorially. “Maybe we should get out of the hall.”

“Oh!” Wilt looked doubtfully at the door behind him. “Um…just a minute.” He poked his head in and called softly. Satisfied with the response, he said, “It’s okay. You can just stay right by the door. Okay?”

“That’s fine, lad.”

Jack took in the prince’s quarters in a swift, practiced glance. The room was nearly devoid of personality, dominated by a large bed, a round table in a corner, and a dressing screen, behind which Jack could hear tiny movements.

“What is it?” Wilt’s attempts at whispering were nearly as loud as his regular voice. “What’s the secret?”

Jack pitched his voice to the same volume, confident it would carry across the room. “Promise not to tell?”

“I promise!”

It was a dangerous move, but Jack reasoned that the valet didn’t really have anyone to tell other than Angus, and the entire purpose of this charade was so the prince would find out.

“If it gets back to the king, I will be in big trouble.” He fixed the boy with a serious look. “Do you understand?”

Wilt nodded solemnly. He knew quite well the importance of hiding certain information from the king.

“It wasn’t a coincidence that I was chosen as the new royal bodyguard.”

Wilt’s eyes were wide. “It wasn’t?”

“No. I wanted this assignment.”

A flash of insight made the valet appear more mature. “To take care of Angus.”

“Yes.”

Jack didn’t look up at the small scuffling sound from behind the screen.

“So you asked the king?”

Jack half-smiled. “Do you think he would have said yes if I had?”

Wilt frowned. “N-no. So how…?”

“This is what you really can’t tell, Wilt. Okay?”

The boy nodded.

“I paid a member of court to give certain advice to the king.”

If he hadn’t been focused mostly on the dressing screen, Jack would have enjoyed the open-mouthed wonder on Wilt’s face. This was clearly one of the most exciting things the boy had ever been told.

“You—you— _really_? Like a—like a wizard?” At Jack’s mystified look, he added, “You know, from a story?”

Jack couldn’t contain a chuckle. “I guess so. It wasn’t magic, though. Just…” Jack looked across the room again. “Loyalty.”

They both heard the choked gasp, and Wilt whipped his head toward the screen. He knew, perhaps even better than Jack, the meaning of loyalty.

“You should wait outside, Jack.” The valet pushed at the knight to emphasize his words. “I—I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

Jack let himself be shoved out the door. He’d accomplished what he wanted. “Thank you, Wilt Bozer,” he said solemnly. “I will be right here.”

Wilt smiled. “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: fairly mild implications of child abuse, but more pronounced in this chapter than in others
> 
> This is the low point in the relationship between Jack and Angus.

Angus was fully dressed, but he stayed behind the screen as Jack exited. He couldn’t let his face betray his feelings.

When he finally emerged, Wilt beamed at him but managed to say nothing, a feat Angus appreciated.

“Do—do you need anything else?” Wilt offered instead.

Angus shook his head. He had to face Jack—no, _Sir Dalton_ , he corrected himself—sooner or later.

With a deep breath and Wilt’s well wishes ringing in his ears, Angus stepped outside.

“Your Highness.” Jack’s voice vibrated with an emotion Angus couldn’t name.

He kept his own voice cool and distant. “Sir Dalton. Good morrow.”

Jack blinked and returned the greeting. “Did you sleep well, Your Highness?”

Angus twitched. “Shall we walk? I mustn’t be late.”

Jack sighed but turned to lead the way. He stood quietly at the side of the dining hall, watching the child pick fretfully at his breakfast and barely managing to keep his mouth shut. He should be thankful, he decided, that the boy was not starving, enough that he wasn’t shoving food in his mouth at a frantic pace. But it was no wonder he was so thin if this was how he ate at every meal.

Eventually, the hardly touched dishes were removed, and Angus walked past his guard without a word, heading for the staircase that would take him to his tutor.

“Prince Angus.”

Angus stopped but did not turn.

“Duke Lemière has said you might have a turn about the palace grounds before beginning your lessons for the day.”

Angus pinched his lips together. “Indeed?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Come.” As Jack brushed by, he murmured, “We will be able to be quite alone…Angus.”

The boy froze. He couldn’t let J—Sir Dalton attempt familiarity. He _couldn’t_.

When the knight looked back, lifting an eyebrow, Angus raised his chin defiantly. “Mind your station, _knight_.” He couldn’t look at Jack’s face, staring straight ahead as he marched toward the garden.

Angus snubbed the knight’s three attempts at speech while they were outside, finally stumbling up to Lemière’s study, exhausted by the effort of keeping Jack distant. The knight was exhibiting more patience than Angus had expected, but he was clearly growing frustrated, and soon enough he would snap. Then Angus wouldn’t have to push; Jack would stay away from him as much as he could all on his own.

It was a relief to shut the door in Jack’s face and turn his attention to his tutor.

Angus found it difficult to concentrate on his lessons, but the day still flew by too quickly. Jack knocked on the door, reminding Duke Lemière that it was time for the prince’s dinner, and the gentleman twittered gratefully at the prompt, saying many things about how lucky the prince was to have someone to look out for him now, and how the knight seemed to be doing a good job, and how he himself would forget his own beard if it weren’t attached, and—

Angus mumbled something in response and escaped the voluble tutor.

After dinner, Jack escorted Angus to his chambers. It was too early for bed—the evening guard hadn’t even arrived yet—but the prince was only too glad to get away from Jack. To his astonishment, the knight followed him into his room, not giving him a chance to slip away.

“Your Highness,” Jack began firmly. “You may not remember me. But I swear to you that I am—a friend.”

Angus swallowed hard and looked away.

“I am not working for your—for the king.” Jack shuffled a little. “I mean, he chose me as your bodyguard, but I do not report to him.” The knight took a step closer, his voice warmer now. “I once promised that I would not let anyone hurt you, and I will keep that promise, son.”

Angus slid his gaze up to Jack’s face and then quickly away.

“Just let me do that, Angus. Let me protect you. My loyalty is all to you, my prince.”

Angus clenched his fists, turning sharply and striding across the room. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Did you know that Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston were—were—”

Jack’s expression dropped. “I heard about their—passing. I’m so sorry—”

“You should be.” The child’s voice was bitter. “I remember you. _You_ made them speak against the king. _You_ forced them to put themselves in danger. And they paid for it.”

The knight’s mouth fell open, but Angus forced himself to meet his eyes.

“It’s _your_ fault they’re dead.”

Jack let out a breath as though he had been punched in the stomach.

“You need to leave me alone.” When Jack didn’t move, Angus nearly shouted, “Get out!”

Jack staggered toward the door, turning back to look at the boy once more, but Angus refused to let his hard expression crack. Finally, the knight left, closing the door behind him, and the prince crumpled to the floor.

He had succeeded. Jack would be safe now.

So why did he feel like such a failure?

Wilt bustled in just then, eyes wide. “Hey, Angus, what happened? Jack wouldn’t even look at me—whoa. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Angus mumbled, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face.

“Uh, no, you’re not. Did something happen?” Wilt’s voice hardened. “Did that knight do something to you?” He was at his friend’s side in an instant, and Angus felt a flash of gratitude at his valet’s protectiveness.

“No, Wilt. Everything’s fine.”

Wilt still looked doubtful. “Are you sure? ‘Cause he promised me he would take care of you, but if he hurt you—”

“No,” Angus interrupted. “He didn’t touch me, okay? It’s just…been a long day. A lot to get used to.”

The valet relaxed slightly. “But it’s better now, right? I mean, you’ll be allowed to go outside more, and you’ll have somebody to talk to when I’m not here, and—Angus? Did I say something wrong?”

Angus groaned. “I’m just…tired. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wilt said quietly. “I’ll fix your bath.”

The two boys were silent as Wilt went about his nightly duties and Angus tried to focus on the small abacus his tutor had provided for him to study.

Angus finally spoke when he was in his nightshirt, ready for bed. “Wilt?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe—maybe don’t talk to J—Sir Dalton too much, okay?”

The valet visibly startled. “What? Why not?”

“Uh…”

“He’s a friend, Angus. Remember? A good friend.”

Angus forced his voice not to waver. “Wilt, the king gave him this assignment. Do you really think Sir Dalton doesn’t owe him anything?” Before Wilt could contemplate too deeply, the prince hurried on. “So we need to make sure we don’t tell him anything that will—anything we don’t want the king to know. Right?”

Wilt nodded slowly. “But, Angus, I really don’t think Jack—”

“We don’t know what _Sir Dalton_ will do. So…let’s just not take chances, okay?”

Wilt still looked troubled. “Okay, Angus. If that’s what you want.”

The prince leaned back against his pillow, sighing in relief. “It is. Thanks, Wilt.”

Wilt wrung his hands for another moment but finally scurried from the room, and Angus stared at the ceiling, prepared for another sleepless night.

 

~~~

 

Jack made no attempt to enter the prince’s chambers the next morning, waiting in the hall until Angus appeared. The boy flicked his eyes up to his guard’s face, but Jack was expressionless, leading him to the dining hall in silence. Angus could feel the curious gaze studying him as he tried to eat, though.

Once again, he pushed away his breakfast and headed for the stairway.

Jack stopped him, speaking for the first time that morning. “Outside.”

Angus sullenly followed his guard to the palace grounds, ostentatiously ignoring the knight.

Over the next few days, they settled into a silent, resentful routine. Jack didn’t speak except to give orders, and the prince pretended, as much as he could, that Jack wasn’t there. Angus knew this state of affairs couldn’t continue—Wilt was already fussing about his clothes not fitting because he was losing too much weight—but he had no idea how to resolve things. The best thing for everyone would be if Jack left, if he would just go on to another assignment.

At least, that would be best for Jack.

But Jack was always there. He never left Angus alone, constantly alert for danger, even though the prince acted as though he had no more value than a piece of furniture.

Angus needed to push him further away.

One morning, instead of silently following Jack outside for their morning constitutional, Angus turned and started up the stairs.

“Your Highness.” Jack’s voice was clipped. “Outside.”

“No.” Angus didn’t turn, heart pounding so loudly he thought Jack must be able to hear it.

“Royal brat,” Jack growled, stalking closer.

Angus flushed. Jack had taken to calling him that, as he knew many of the other guards did, and even though it was a step in the right direction, it still stung.

Jack stopped on the stair above Angus, glaring down at him. “You will do as you are told. Come. Now.”

Angus crossed his arms defiantly. “I will not. Move out of my way.”

Jack’s face darkened, and Angus suppressed a shudder. “I will not request again. Out.”

The prince took a deep breath. “I already said I will not. I’m going up.”

Angus tried to duck past his guard, but faster than he could comprehend, Jack had his arm in a vice-like grip, and his other hand was raised, and _that_ gesture Angus knew far too well—

The boy lurched backward with a soft cry, throwing his arms over his head. Jack released him so suddenly he began tumbling down the few steps he’d climbed.

And then Jack grabbed his arm again, but this time in a gentle grasp, preventing him from falling. He set the boy on his feet on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

Angus was breathing hard, and he inched backward, but Jack turned away from him. “Come,” the knight repeated in a strangled voice, not looking back to see if the prince was following him.

When they returned from the gardens, Jack finally spoke again, looking straight ahead, voice flat. “I'm—I apologize. I was angry and—there is no excuse. I will never hurt you. I’m sorry I frightened you.”

Angus found his throat was too tight to respond, so he said nothing, thankful to escape into the study.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: danger from a venomous snake (not intense). Also, death of a venomous snake (non-graphic).

Jack paced the hall outside Lemière’s study, cursing himself. He didn’t deserve the title of knight. Didn’t deserve to be in the castle. He was the worst kind of person. Lower than the mud on his boot. He was—he was no better than King James himself.

He had almost struck a child.

And not just any child. He had vowed to protect this boy, had made it his entire purpose in life, and the first time Angus defied him—testing his limits as _children_ did—Jack had come within a heartbeat of lashing out.

Angus would never trust him now.

He hadn’t expected overwhelming gratitude from the boy. Since he couldn’t count on being remembered, he hadn’t even expected Angus to be comfortable around him right away. But he had foolishly built up a mental image of teaching the child what it meant to feel safe, of showing the prince that there was more to life than the dictates his father tried to beat into him. He had expected to be able to be a friend.

He hadn’t anticipated the antipathy Angus displayed. He hadn’t been ready for the spite and disdain and anger Angus showed him on a daily basis. He hadn’t been prepared to be blamed for the deaths of the three nobles in the archives.

But he should have. After all, Angus was right. It was his fault.

How had he ever believed things would turn out all right?

And the worst part—worse than the months he had wasted trying to return to the prince, worse than the danger in which he had placed himself should the king ever learn of his machinations, worse even than the fear in that young, innocent face when Jack threatened him—the worst part was that there was nothing Jack could do to fix this.

Nothing.

Words were meaningless. He could apologize all day—and he felt like doing so—but it would change nothing.

He couldn’t touch the boy. Angus would be even more careful to keep his distance now, and Jack would hardly be a source of comfort.

He was yet another person who had let the child down.

Jack continued pacing, wishing the hallway was too hot or too cold, or that the floor wasn’t smooth and clean, or that his uniform didn’t fit so well, snug and soft against his skin. He deserved discomfort. He deserved to suffer.

It was perhaps a few hours later that the idea finally occurred to him. There was only one thing he could do for the boy he cared about more than he had known he could care for another person.

He had to leave.

If he left, Angus would get a new bodyguard. Jack could guarantee no one would care about the prince as much as Jack himself did, but at least the new knight wouldn’t threaten to hurt the boy. Probably.

Jack grimaced. Maybe he would need to choose his replacement himself. If Angus ended up at the mercy of a knight who thought to abuse his power over the young royal…

But he would need to make sure the prince didn’t know Jack had had a hand in selecting his new bodyguard. Angus would never trust anyone connected with Jack.

Jack pushed aside the pain stabbing his heart and continued to plot as he waited for Angus.

When the prince finally left the study, face blank and eyes fixed straight ahead, unseeing, Jack accompanied him silently to the dining hall and then to his chambers. As he had once before, he entered the room with the boy, who didn’t even attempt to stop him, merely turning his back.

“Prince Angus,” Jack began heavily. “I am sorry. More than you will ever know.”

He didn’t expect a response, but as he was gathering himself to speak again, he was surprised by the small, toneless voice.

“It doesn’t matter.”

_Oh, Angus._

Jack almost choked on his next words. “It matters— _you_ matter a great deal, my prince. More than—more than anything.” He took a steadying breath. “So I will make arrangements as quickly as I can. I will resign my post as your bodyguard.”

For a wild moment, Jack hoped that Angus might tell him to stay. He would even accept another expression of indifference as permission to remain.

But the child was silent and still, eventually twitching one shoulder.

Jack sighed in defeat and headed for the door. “I…will always want what is best for you, A—Your Highness. I’m so sorry that—that isn’t me.”

 

~~~

 

The next few days drifted by in a fog. Jack attended to his duties assiduously but without enthusiasm. Angus, for his part, followed the knight without a word. He was eating even less now, Jack noticed with a dull pang, and the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced.

_He’ll be better off when I’m gone._

Eventually, even Duke Lemière noticed something was amiss. As Angus was leaving the study one evening, the tutor followed him to the door.

“Is everything all right, Your Highness?” The wavering voice was kind but perplexed.

Angus shot a glance at Jack from the corner of his eye. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Lemière looked toward Jack as though for help, so the knight carefully didn’t meet his gaze.

“If you are quite sure,” Lemière said unhappily.

The prince’s voice was as cool and dry as ever. “Quite. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Jack took the cue and led Angus away.

Breland had been arriving increasingly later for his watch. The first time he’d been late, he had responded to Jack’s glare with a sniff and an offhand comment about the royal brat not really needing a guard, intimating that Jack could leave the prince alone until Breland managed to get there. Jack hadn’t dared express his rage—strangling another knight would probably get him reported to the king—so instead, he waited in the hall every evening until the night watchman deigned to come.

Jack was turning toward the empty hallway when he heard the shriek. Without thinking, Jack crashed back through the heavy door, prepared to defend the prince from intruders.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Angus was on the floor, tossed there by the sudden sweep of the door, but he wasn’t aiming an accusing glare at the interloper in his room. His wide blue eyes were fixed on a much more pressing danger.

The adder hissed in preparation to strike.

In an automatic reflex, Jack had a knife in his hand and let it fly, trusting his own aim, hoping that Angus wouldn’t move because there was no room for error…

The knife sliced through the adder’s neck and clattered to the floor near the child’s hand.

For a moment, all was still. Harsh breathing filtered into Jack’s ears slowly, as though he were swimming up through a lake, and he couldn’t tell if it was his own breath he heard or the child’s.

He dropped to one knee. “ _Angus_ …”

The boy was still fixated on the twitching corpse in front of him, but at his name, his head snapped up.

“Jack,” he cried, and the knight reached for him, desperate to assure himself the child was safe.

Angus didn’t appear to notice when Jack gathered him in his arms. “It-it was above the door,” he stammered, sobbing in earnest now. “Fell on me.”

“Shh, you’re all right. It can’t hurt you now.” Shuddering, Jack conducted a visual sweep of the room, recalling the few snakebites he had seen. Of the three soldiers he knew who had been struck by an adder, only one had survived, briefly, thanks to a barber-surgeon who had amputated his leg, but he had later succumbed to infection, as so many who endured field surgery did.

And those had been fully grown, healthy men. A small child like Angus wouldn’t have had a chance. Jack hugged him more tightly.

Angus was calming, seeming to recall himself. “Adders don’t strike if they can get away instead.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at the matter-of-fact tone. “Oh?”

The prince pushed on Jack’s chest until the knight released him. “It was stunned from the fall. I could have gotten away from it.”

Jack was loath to let the child move too far away. “Angus—”

“ _You_ , knight,” Angus spat, “frightened the snake.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “ _I_ frightened—”

“With the door. The door hit the adder, which made it attack.” Angus took another step away from Jack, crossing his arms.

“Your Highness, it is my duty to protect you.” Jack didn’t see what he could have done differently. If he heard Angus in distress, he would come running. Always.

He thought the prince might make a comment about the poor job Jack was doing of keeping him safe, but Angus merely huffed and turned his back.

“Your Highness…” Jack hesitated, searching for words. “That snake…”

“Didn’t get in here on its own,” Angus completed flatly. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Someone put it there. Above the door. Waiting for me.”

The boy was remarkably calm discussing an attempt on his life, and Jack was reminded of the way the child had expressionlessly related the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father, abstracting himself from reality.

“Your Highness, this assassination attempt—”

“It wasn’t an assassination attempt!” The calm exterior broke, and Angus wheeled around, fists clenched.

“What—”

“It was—it was just a—a _prank_!”

Jack couldn’t find a response to that, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

“They do stuff like that all the time. It was just a prank,” Angus repeated more quietly. “It was nothing.”

“ _Nothing_?” It was Jack’s turn to shout. “You could have been killed!”

“No one would try to assassinate me!”

“You think you’re untouchable? Because—”

“No one would want to kill me because I’m not _important_ enough.”

Jack blinked. “No. That’s—no. Th—”

“You should know. You talked to my father.”

Jack wanted to weep at the bitterness in the child’s voice. “Y— _Angus_ , I—”

“Please leave now.” Angus looked down at the floor. “And take this with you. Wilt shouldn’t have to clean it up.”

Jack silently picked up his knife and then the corpse of the reptile. “I will find out who did this, Angus.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be leaving soon anyway. And you can mind your station, knight.”

Somehow, Jack found himself in the hallway, once again facing a closed door. He turned and caught the distantly curious gaze of Breland, who had finally shown up. The night watchman studied the creature coiled in Jack’s grasp.

Jack’s chest tightened. _Breland_ couldn’t have done this, could he? He made no secret of his disdain for the young prince, but he was lazy more than anything else. He wouldn’t…would he?

“You see this?” Jack advanced more fiercely than he’d intended, brandishing the snake.

Breland’s slow gaze moved from the reptile to Jack. “An adder.”

“Do you know where I found it?”

Breland was already bored with the conversation. “Did you catch it in the woods, Dalton? Perhaps one of the cooks might indulge your odd Southern tastes.”

Jack gritted his teeth. “It was _in the prince’s chambers_.”

“The prince captured it?” Breland looked interested again. “I wouldn’t have thought him capable.”

“It almost killed him,” Jack ground out.

Breland shrugged. “Figures. Royal brat shouldn’t be playing with something dangerous.”

For the umpteenth time, Jack resisted the urge to break the other knight’s neck. He detected no guilt, no disappointment at the news the prince was still alive and well, no active desire to harm the boy. He sagged. Breland wasn’t responsible for this.

He managed to grunt some form of salutation and stalked away. If Angus was right, and this had been a prank gone wrong, Jack would make sure whoever it was suffered. And if it _hadn’t_ been a joke—Jack didn’t even want to think about that.

If there was a would-be assassin in the castle…Jack’s lip curled in a sneer. They better hope someone else caught them before Jack did. Another knight would take them to the dungeon to await sentencing.

Jack wouldn’t be so merciful.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, after another sleepless night, Angus was thoroughly ashamed of himself. He had been weak. It wasn’t as though he’d even been hurt, apart from a small bruise on his shoulder from being hit by the door.

And just because he’d been scared, he’d let himself accept comfort from the one person he most needed to avoid. The door had been wide open! What if Breland had walked just a little closer than he usually did and saw Jack kneeling, cradling the boy in his arms, whispering assurances…

Jack would have been arrested for his improper relationship with a royal. And it would have been the prince’s fault.

Angus refused to think about how good it had felt, safe in Jack’s embrace, even better than he remembered from that night long ago. He’d done what he set out to do; he’d pushed until Jack wanted to leave, and now the knight would be safe. If only he’d hurry and go.

_If he were gone, I’d probably be dead._

The prince had never been permitted outside much prior to Jack’s arrival, but he’d read reports from those who had witnessed adder bites, and he’d spoken at length with the royal physician, both out of his natural inquisitiveness and his lack of anything else to do. Despite what he’d said to Jack, Angus knew the chances that he would have escaped the reptile were slim. If he’d run, the snake would have struck immediately, and no human was faster than an adder.

_What does it matter if I’m dead? No one would care._

The only reason King James needed Angus was because he only had one heir. Any time an eligible lady of noble birth visited the palace, Angus wondered if his father would take a new wife. If he had other children, he would have no use for Angus.

Lemière might miss him, Angus reflected. This thought didn’t bring much consolation. The tutor was kind but would probably not even remember his name after a few months. Indeed, Angus wasn’t sure Lemière remembered it now, since he always correctly addressed the royal by title.

He resolutely pushed aside the thought that Jack would care if he died.

Angus smiled when Wilt bustled in. Wilt would miss him. His life would be a lot easier if he didn’t have to wait on an unwanted prince, but at least Angus knew he was a true friend.

“Morning!” Wilt called cheerfully. “Do you—hey, what’s this?” The valet stopped mid-stride to stare at the floor. “Is that—is that _blood_?”

Angus cursed himself. He’d forgotten to clean up the drops of blood from the adder.

“It’s nothing, Wilt.” At his valet’s glare, Angus added hastily, “I mean, it’s not mine.”

“Then whose is it?”

“It’s no—”

“Angus.” Wilt had his hands on his hips and was glaring more fiercely. “Whose blood is it?”

The prince relented. Wilt was not going to let this go. He slowly told the story as he dressed, leaving out the part when he’d reached for Jack like a baby and let himself be held.

“Wow.”

Angus popped out from behind the dressing screen to see Wilt’s eyes shining.

“That is—that is—wow. He really killed an adder with a knife from ten paces?”

Before the prince could respond, Jack’s familiar knock sounded, and Wilt sprinted to the door.

“Jack!” Recalling himself just in time, Wilt pulled the knight inside, away from prying ears, and began chattering again. “Angus told me all about it! How did you do that? That’s…amazing! I wish I’d seen it!”

Jack smiled at the hero-worship in Wilt’s face. “He told you all about it, huh?” His smile died when he glanced over at Angus. “Your Highness.”

“Sir Dalton,” Angus returned stonily.

Wilt glanced uncertainly between the two. “Um, what—”

“Shall we go?”

Jack bowed. “Your Highness.” Before he left the room, he mustered up a smile for Wilt, but the valet could see his eyes were sad.

Angus plodded behind his bodyguard as they toured the castle grounds. Jack varied their route each day, and while the prince knew this was to prevent his routine becoming too well known, he liked to pretend that it was also to let him look at different scenery.

_Stop thinking he cares. He’s leaving. It’s for the best._

He noticed Jack fiercely eyeing everyone they passed, and he was staying just a little closer to the boy’s side than he normally did. Angus wondered if perhaps the knight had a horror of snakes. The silly prank seemed to have deeply unsettled him.

“Your Highness…” Jack took a deep breath and continued when Angus didn’t respond. “Might I tell you a story?”

Surprised, Angus took a minute to incline his head.

“During the Battle of Ainsley, my regiment led the charge and crossed enemy lines. Then their canons started, and—” Jack closed his eyes. “Our reinforcements…didn’t arrive.”

The prince looked down at his feet. While part of his royal training included troop movements and battle formations, he had never been permitted to read reports of soldiers who had actually seen conflict.

“You survived,” he said quietly.

Jack glanced down at the boy. “I was lucky.”

“Skilled,” Angus corrected without thinking.

Jack smiled. “As you say, Your Highness. But it was luck that turned the tide. My men had trained near canons, while theirs had not. Have you ever heard canon fire, my prince?”

Angus nodded. “From a distance. On…celebration days.” The prince didn’t mention that he was generally confined to his quarters, from which he could hear the revelry outside, including the booming of canons.

“Up close, it is louder than the loudest thunder. It makes the ground shake and splits the air around you. And men nearby duck away from the sound.”

The boy lifted his head. “But not your men.”

“No. We were able to attack because we did not flinch when others did.”

Angus was silent for a while. “You were…better than they were.”

“No, Your Highness. We just knew not to back away in the face of danger.” Jack stopped walking and turned to face the prince. “Others would have run from that adder, and it would have struck before I could get there. You, A—Your Highness—you did not flinch. You are braver than most, my prince. It is that courage that will ensure victory.”

Angus looked up into Jack’s sincere gaze. “I—I was not brave,” he admitted quietly. “I was…frightened.”

Jack smiled, shaking his head. “One cannot be brave unless there is a reason to fear. You have remarkable courage, my prince. It is—an honor for any knight to serve you.”

The prince looked away. He could almost guarantee that any other knight would not feel the same way about being assigned as bodyguard to the young royal. He gestured with one hand, and Jack continued leading him along the garden paths.

Their walk today took them past a group of young pages. The first time the boys had seen the prince with his new bodyguard, they had been cowed into silence, but as they became more familiar with the sight, they grew bolder, calling taunts and then scampering away. When there had been no reprisals from the knight, the pages were emboldened further, but both Jack and Angus had ignored them.

This time, Angus saw Jack’s fists clench at the hurled insults, and the knight abruptly stopped walking.

“Are these rapscallions your…pranksters?” Jack spoke through gritted teeth.

The waves of anger made Angus nervous. “It doesn’t mat—”

“Stay here.”

Jack strode toward the group of boys, and Angus could see his expression morph into a friendly smile, even as his shoulders remained tense. Jack spoke with studied casualness, the pages flocking around him as he showed them something in his hands.

“Your Highness!” Angus jerked when Jack called to him. “Please come, if you would, Your Highness.”

Jack hadn’t sounded this deferential since the first day they’d met. Puzzled, Angus inched closer.

“Your Highness, it appears these lads have never played the soldier’s version of mumblety-peg. Are you familiar with the game?”

Angus shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“To play, one must have a good, sharp knife.” Jack hefted the blade in his hand, and Angus noticed it had been cleaned since last night, the edge glinting wickedly in the morning light. “This one is razor-sharp, I assure you.”

Jack spun and in one fluid motion, sliced the cowlick from the top of the tallest boy’s head without grazing the scalp. A few strands of red hair fluttered to the ground as the boy screamed in surprise and fear, and his friends tittered when they saw what Jack had done.

“You agree it is sharp enough for the game, Your Highness?” Jack asked calmly.

Angus wasn’t sure where Jack was going yet, but he responded regally, “So stipulated.”

The other boys shuffled.

“The players stand with feet apart, like so.” Jack moved one of the smaller boys into position. “The knife is thrown…” Jack heaved the blade into the ground mere inches from the boy’s right foot. The child shrieked and leaped away.

“If the player moves, he is disqualified.”

The newly disqualified player flushed as the other boys began to tease him.

“If the player doesn’t move, he is permitted another turn, but with feet closer together.” Jack met the prince’s eyes briefly. “The player loses if he moves or if he refuses to continue—out of _fear_ ,” he added, a note of derision in his voice that had the pages bristling. “The player wins if the knife strikes him or if the thrower refuses to continue.”

“What d’ we win?” the redhead demanded.

Jack paused to ensure he had their full attention. “The winner keeps this knife.”

The servant boys eyed the shining dagger, the hilt inlaid with onyx. A knife like that was worth a fair amount, not to mention the bragging rights of taking it off a knight of the realm.

“Who’s first?”

The boys clamored for a turn. Angus stood silent, waiting. He understood what Jack was doing now, but he still didn’t know _why_.

The prince enjoyed the spectacle more than he’d anticipated. The first few boys didn’t make it past a single turn, the whizzing of the blade scaring them into jumping back. After that, the others were more determined, Jack’s knife striking the ground between feet that were moved closer and closer together.

Angus watched Jack’s face as he concentrated, unsmiling and intense, his blade flashing as he hit his target every time.

Finally, the last boy had a turn, paling with each new strike but still determined. When his feet were only a hand’s width apart, the boy began to complain.

“Ain’t you give up? You can’t make that!”

Jack didn’t blink. “I’m willing to bet my knife that I can. Are you willing to bet your foot that I can’t?”

The boy looked from Jack to the gleaming edge of the blade. The other pages crowded around, egging him on, and he finally nodded, face tinging green.

The dagger sang through the air. The boy yelped and jumped away, stumbling to a bush where he promptly threw up.

After making fun of the boy for losing his breakfast, the pages clustered around Jack again, but the knight held up a hand.

“One more needs a turn.”

The boys looked around, confused.

“Your Highness? Would you care to play?”

Angus ignored the jeers of the boys claiming the royal wasn’t tough enough for the game. “I will.”

Jack smiled slightly and looked deeply into the steady blue eyes facing him. He nodded once, and Angus nodded in return.

When Angus didn’t flinch at the first throw, the other boys grew quiet.

Angus didn’t even look at the knife on the second throw, and the pages began muttering.

After the third throw, the prince’s feet were a hand’s width apart, and the most recent loser began shouting.

“Do you wish to yield, Your Highness?” Jack asked over the rumble from their audience.

Angus lifted his chin. “No. You may proceed, Sir Dalton.”

There was a collective gasp when the knife buried halfway to the hilt in the ground between the prince’s feet. Angus hadn’t moved a muscle.

When Jack retrieved his knife, Angus adjusted his stance, his feet merely a few finger-widths apart.

“Again, Sir Dalton.”

The pages were openly gaping, making incoherent sounds as Jack lifted his arm. For a moment, he held the blade aloft.

“No.” Jack dropped his arm. “I cannot.” He switched his grip and presented the knife to Angus, hilt first. “I concede, Your Highness.”

Angus slowly took the prize, struggling to keep himself from visibly reacting.

Jack nodded at the pages. “Good game, lads. Off to your duties, now.”

The boys dispersed, chattering excitedly. Angus heard a comment about _bloody stones of brass_ , and when he was sure he and Jack were alone, he smiled.

He offered the knife to his bodyguard. “Here.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “It is yours, Your Highness. You won it fairly.”

Angus shook his head. “You could have made that shot.”

“Perhaps. But I would not have risked _you_ to do so.”

Angus felt a warmth spread over him. “I thought you were not to flinch in the face of danger.”

Jack smiled down at him. “Some things, Your Highness, are worth more than victory.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: another assassination attempt, this one somewhat more graphic (but still not very)

Jack remembered when life was simple. Wake up, receive orders, execute orders, repeat. Monotony interspersed with bursts of adrenaline. Simple.

When he’d realized he needed to guard the prince, he’d known his life would change. He just didn’t know it would become so complicated. How could one child bring him so high and so low, sometimes simultaneously?

He had never been so frightened as when he’d seen Angus in harm’s way. His own mortality shrank in relation to the importance of the life of the prince, not because of his title, but because he was _Angus_. And he’d never known such joy as when Angus smiled at him, Jack’s second-favorite knife cradled in his slender hands as though it were made of solid gold.

Jack wasn’t sure the boy realized it, but he was now convinced the young pages had had nothing to do with the adder. There had been no guilty whispers or giggles when the prince approached, and Jack doubted any had the wherewithal to capture and carry a deadly adder. Nor were they likely to have made it that far into the private wings of the castle unnoticed.

Which meant it hadn’t been a prank, and Angus was truly in danger.

That thought constricted his chest until he wasn’t sure he could breathe, and he rushed Angus through the rest of their walk, hurrying him inside to Lemière, who was about the only person in the castle Jack _didn’t_ suspect as a potential informant for an assassin. Lemière spent any time he wasn’t with the prince reading and studying, speaking with almost no one.

Despite the dread in his stomach, Jack was also strangely…happy. Angus trusted him, at least a little. That meant more to Jack than he had expected.

It was too bad he had to leave. Their small moments last night and this morning did not erase what he had done, and he couldn’t ask for forgiveness for that.

He just wished Angus would tell him to stay.

 

~~~

 

The next few days felt like the calm before a storm. Jack knew something was brewing, knew Angus was still in danger, but each day kept to its peaceful routine. Jack learned from Wilt that the prince had stitched together a strong, thin sheath for his new knife, which he wore daily just above his ankle, invisible under his clothes. This brought Jack intense satisfaction. Even when he, inevitably, was forced to leave the prince’s service, he would always remember the boy. Now Angus would have a reminder of Jack too.

As they were starting their after-breakfast constitutional, Groves approached on silent feet.

“Your Highness.” The footman addressed the royal first, but his message was delivered to the knight. “His Grace is indisposed today and wishes His Highness to have a day of leisure about the castle grounds.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the boy’s eyes light up, and he guessed he had never had an unstructured day to do as he pleased.

“Please tell His Grace his message is understood.”

“And give him my well wishes for a speedy recovery,” Angus piped up.

The footman inclined his head and disappeared.

“Well, Your Highness,” Jack began softly as they strolled outside. “This is an unexpected pleasure, is it not?”

The prince’s voice was steady, but his steps bounced just a little. “Indeed.”

“How do you wish to take advantage of your leisure time?”

The boy’s head jolted up. “I—I can choose?”

“Of course,” Jack responded slowly, confused. “Who else—” Oh. Angus was accustomed to being given orders. He expected that his bodyguard, his guardian when Lemière was not around, would make decisions for him. “What would you like…” Jack checked that they were alone and took a risk. “…Angus?”

The prince hesitated. “I—I wish—”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never…been outside the castle walls,” Angus said in a rush.

That hurt. To think this bright, curious boy had never been allowed to see beyond his small world…

And that wasn’t something Jack could do for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as kindly as possible. “That isn’t…permitted.” He ground his teeth when the boy’s face dropped in resignation. “Anything you like within the walls.”

Angus just shrugged, and they continued their aimless walking, Jack trying to think of something the child would enjoy. In the meantime, he filled the air between them with idle chatter, hoping if he could not elicit a response, he could at least distract the boy from his life of virtual imprisonment.

Jack was commenting on the rich scent as they neared the treeline when Angus finally spoke.

“Sage.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Angus pointed. “That’s sage.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Indeed it is, Your Highness. It is often used among soldiers for coughs.”

“The royal physician uses it too. And the chefs.”

Jack hummed in agreement, having eaten plenty of dishes flavored with the savory herb.

Angus hesitated and then spoke again. “Did you know that the leaves grow in precise geometric formations?”

Jack blinked. “I…did not.”

The child tentatively plucked a plant from the ground and held it up for Jack to study. “Do you see that each new leaf is positioned by degree around the stem?”

When Jack leaned closer, making a noise of encouragement, Angus began talking faster. Jack didn’t bother hiding a smile. He wasn’t really interested in horticulture, but he _was_ interested in the fascinating way the prince’s mind worked, the things he noticed and retained.

And he was extremely interested in making the boy happy.

Their conversation flowed naturally after that. Eventually, Angus stopped glancing up at Jack every time he opened his mouth as though expecting to be reprimanded for speaking out of turn. Jack wondered what the child would be like now if he’d been raised to believe he had value, not to think that everything he did would be criticized.

Jack couldn’t give him back those years, but he would give him today.

“This is my favorite tree,” Angus offered shyly when they neared a giant spruce.

The knight took a moment to study the spreading branches and inhale the sharp scent. “It is a fine specimen. What makes it your favorite?”

Angus was looking down, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. “It is…far from the palace.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. Although the thick foliage screened it from view, the castle wall was only a minute or two from where they stood.

When Angus didn’t continue, Jack ventured, “The needles are…quite sharp.”

The prince nodded eagerly. “But if one can get past them, that sharpness is—” His voice dropped, and he blushed as he whispered the last word. “Safe.”

Jack continued staring at the tree, forcing his voice to remain level. “I am sure if the tree had a choice, it would always use its defenses to protect you, not against you.”

The boy ducked his head, flushing even further, as they moved back toward the path. Jack regarded the golden head fondly, thinking that the late queen would surely have been proud of such a boy, even if the king did not have the sense to appreciate him.

“Jack, look out!”

He’d let himself get distracted and hadn’t been watching where he was going. As his foot crashed through a webbing of thin branches, the knight reacted immediately, reaching back and pushing Angus away from the hole.

Jack landed hard, his feet sinking into a dense, sandy mud that pulled at his ankles, dragging him down before he could move.

In that instant, Jack knew three things with absolute certainty.

_Someone had dug this pit for the prince._

_The trap itself was not meant to kill him._

_Therefore, someone was probably lying in wait…_

“Run!” Jack roared in the split second before an arrow flashed over his shoulder in the direction of the prince.

Angus leaped behind a tree, crouching there.

Jack drew his sword, regretting that he didn’t have his bow and quiver to return fire. Before lifting the ram’s horn to his lips to signal the guards, he shouted, “Back to the castle! As fast as you can. Move!”

Jack jerked to the side to avoid another arrow, this one clearly aimed at him, and blew into the horn as loudly as he could, already scanning the trees to find the archer.

He was a sitting duck. While the pit was relatively shallow, obviously meant for a small boy instead of a grown man, it had been lined with sticky mud that sucked at Jack’s feet. It would likely have buried Angus up to his knees, and it was deep enough that Jack couldn’t focus on getting loose without removing his attention from the arrows still flying in his direction.

At least, judging by the pauses between arrows, there was only one archer. All Jack could do was dodge and wait for backup, praying the would-be assassin would flee when he knew the guards were coming. Or at least that he had poor aim.

No such luck. Even crouched as low as possible, Jack was an easy target, and the next arrow skimmed the shoulder of his leather jerkin.

And then there was a presence at Jack’s side, and a young voice was saying, “Put these by your feet.”

Jack gaped in horror. “I told you to run!”

Angus ignored him, focused on the slender branches in his hands, knife still shimmering with sap.

“If we dig these around your feet, that should counteract the viscosity, and you can move. Then a layer on top to prevent sinking again, and you’ll be free.” As he spoke, the boy was kneeling at the edge of the pit, stretching his arms to their utmost to thrust the sticks around Jack’s feet.

Jack had just time to note that he felt one leg coming loose when he realized that while the archer would gladly have killed the prince’s bodyguard, the royal himself was the true target.

“Angus!” Jack grabbed the boy, hauling him bodily into the pit as an arrow struck the edge. “What did I tell you? Go! Run!” He tossed the child to the solid ground behind him, snarling with fury as another arrow whistled through the air. With a vicious strike, he caught the tip with his sword, sending it spinning away.

Angus was still hunched at the end of the pit, wide-eyed. He reached forward again, holding another stick.

“Go!” Jack shouted again. When Angus didn’t move, Jack cursed, hating himself, and twisted around to grab the boy’s collar in one hand, raising his other in a clear threat. He had no intention of following through, but his message was evident. Angus paled.

“Go!” Jack ordered once more, releasing the child with a shove. Angus scurried to the nearest tree and ducked out of view.

The archer aimed the next few volleys at the disappearing prince, but Jack was confident Angus could put enough trees between himself and the assassin that he would be safe. The knight strained and managed to yank one foot from the mud with a thick squelching sound, but his other leg was held fast.

With a grunt, Jack leaned down to grab the stakes, but they were already sinking. So intent was he on reaching them that he didn’t recall he was the archer’s alternate target once the prince was no longer in sight.

“Jack!” A small body crashed into him, and Jack nearly toppled, catching a hand on the edge of the pit as an arrow sailed overhead, close enough that Jack could feel the breeze it created.

Jack didn’t have time to speak. Angus had his legs wrapped around the knight’s waist, clinging like a limpet, reaching down to insert fresh sticks into the mud around the still-trapped foot. And then Jack was free, and he was rolling out of the pit, Angus still in his arms, and as the thunder of approaching feet signaled the arrival of the royal guards, they both heard the rustle of leaves as the archer made his escape.

Jack pointed the knights in the right direction, nodding wearily when the captain of the guard told him to get the prince to the safe room in the palace, where someone would collect them when the threat had been neutralized.

 

~~~

 

As soon as the heavy door clanked shut, Jack knelt and held out his arms. To his relief, Angus came to him immediately.

They remained locked together until Jack’s knees began to twinge, and he stood, still holding the boy, making his way to a chair. As he had nearly a year ago, the knight sat and settled the prince in his lap.

“ _Angus_ …” he whispered, not knowing where to start.

Angus looked up, blue eyes bright with tears. “Jack,” he choked. “You—you almost—you could have been—”

“Shh. I’m all right. Thanks to you. You saved my life, son.” Jack rested his chin on top of the boy’s head, closing his eyes as he rocked side-to-side. “You did good, buddy.”

Angus sniffled into Jack’s chest. “So you—you won’t tell m-my father?”

Jack drew back in shock. “Tell your—what?”

The prince didn’t look up. “He…says a prince shouldn’t…he says royalty is more…”

“A prince is more important than a knight,” Jack finished woodenly.

“Jack, _I_ don’t think that,” Angus said in a small voice. “But—but you were mad at me, so—”

Jack shut his eyes again, cradling the child’s head with one hand. “I owe you an apology for that, Angus. I am truly sorry.”

The prince shook his head. “I was…wrong.”

Jack sighed. “Yes, you were, but not because of—” The knight struggled to force his spinning thoughts into coherence. “Angus, I want to keep you safe, not because you are a prince, but because you are _you_. You are special, kiddo. I’ve always known that. And if it comes to a choice between a regular knight like me and an extraordinary person like you, I will choose you every time.”

He realized suddenly that Angus was staring at him, wide eyes unblinking. He offered the child a tired smile.

“I’m sorry I made you mad,” Angus finally said timidly. “But I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Jack opened his mouth but found no words. He began to chuckle. “No,” he managed, laughter coming faster. “No, I suppose you aren’t.” Then he was laughing uproariously, and he heard Angus giggle, which only made him laugh harder, until both knight and prince were collapsed against each other, quaking with mirth.

It took several minutes for the fit of hilarity to pass. Angus leaned back in Jack’s arms so he could smile up at the knight, and Jack ruffled his hair fondly.

“I’d ask you to promise never to do that again, but it wouldn’t do any good, would it?”

The prince quirked his lips. “If you promise never to be in danger again.”

“Fair enough.” Jack extended a fist. “We’re in this together, right?”

Angus remembered the gesture and bumped the larger fist with his own. Then he wriggled closer, snuggling into Jack’s chest, allowing himself this comfort just for today.

“You really won’t tell the king?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Of course not. I mean, I’d love to shout from the rooftops how brave and smart you are, but rescuing your bodyguard doesn’t really make either one of us look good, you know what I’m saying?”

Angus hummed in response.

“Why would you think I would tell him?”

The prince stiffened. “It’s—isn’t that—why he appointed you?”

Jack was silent for a long while, tamping down the distaste he always felt when remembering his one and only interview with the king.

“That…was probably his idea,” he agreed slowly. “That doesn’t mean I would do it. I don’t—I never had any intention of telling him anything about you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Besides, he made it pretty clear I wasn’t supposed to bother him with every little thing. I’m not sure how long it would even take to get an audience with him. Does he have something against birds?”

Angus sat up, baffled by this non sequitur. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Jack was frowning. “He said to report if you acted like a bird.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah. If you behaved like an egret, or something like that.”

After a second, Angus giggled. “Did he say if my behavior was _egregious_?”

“Hm, maybe.”

The prince chuckled again. “It means really bad.” His smile dropped. “He—used to say that a lot.”

“Oh, Angus.” Jack hugged the child more tightly. “You have never been an egret, and if you were, I still wouldn’t tell the king.”

The sigh of relief was too deep for Jack’s liking.

“Angus? Has…since I first met you…I thought the king said he was going to—leave you alone.”

The boy looked up and nodded solemnly.

Jack floundered on. “He hasn’t—he hasn’t hurt you…right?”

“No, Jack. Not since you—not since that night. You kept me safe. Just like you promised.”

At the trace of awe in the young voice, Jack dipped forward to rest his forehead against the boy’s. “I will always keep you safe, my prince.”

Angus bit his lip. “He said—he said Duke Lemière could…punish me. However he wanted.”

Jack thought for a few seconds. “His Grace wouldn’t do that, would he?” It wasn’t really a question.

The boy shook his head. “I think that’s why…” He trailed off, but the gesture toward the knight was enough.

Jack wished he could disabuse the boy of the notion, but he was probably right. “I think that is one of the reasons he got you a bodyguard,” he said carefully, ignoring the memory of being explicitly told that the royal heir required a firm hand and that Jack had license to discipline the child as he saw fit. “But you know—please, I hope you know that I would never hurt you. I’m so sorry that I almost—”

“But you didn’t. You—stopped.” Angus reached up and tentatively brushed away the single tear that escaped down Jack’s cheek. “I know you wouldn’t—I know you won’t.”

Jack turned to press his lips to the small palm on his cheek.

“You’re extraordinary too, Jack.”

The knight nearly wept again.

“I hope my next bodyguard is just like you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: kidnapping, mild death threats, small amount of violence, a little bit of claustrophobia

Angus had said something wrong.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but Jack had abruptly become distant, his muscles tightening. Thinking the knight heard someone coming, the prince slid off the man’s lap, and Jack let him go without a word.

But no one came to the door.

Jack paced the windowless room for the next few hours, and Angus watched him nervously, wondering how he had managed to anger his guardian this time. Of course he had done _something_ to mess this up, just as he was convincing himself that it might be okay to accept the affection Jack offered when there was no one around to see them.

When a guard finally knocked, he and Jack conferred quietly. Angus swallowed hard as Jack’s face darkened like a thundercloud.

The other knight left, and Jack turned to the prince.

“They…were unable to catch the…archer,” Jack ground out. “They believe he is no longer on the grounds, and you are permitted to go to your chambers. You will stay there until tomorrow.”

The boy’s mouth was too dry to voice a protest.

Jack led him to his quarters and, as he had since the incident with the adder, scoured the room before allowing Angus more than a step inside.

“I will send your valet to bring you something from the kitchen.”

Angus put a hand over his fluttering stomach. “I’m not hungry.”

Jack pierced him with a glare.

“That is…thank you, Sir Dalton.”

“Then you must sleep.” Jack’s face gentled slightly. “It is normal to feel tired after—an adventure such as you had today.”

Angus nodded, determined not to be contradictory.

“I shall come for you in the morning, Your Highness.”

“Jack—” Angus cut himself off, not sure how to articulate his thoughts.

“You will be safe,” Jack promised softly. “I will remain outside your door until the night watchman arrives.”

Angus pressed his lips together to keep from asking Jack to stay inside the room instead. The knight clearly regretted allowing the prince so close earlier.

It was just as well, Angus decided as the door closed, leaving him alone in the room. He shouldn’t get any more attached to Jack. After all, Jack would be leaving soon, had said he would resign his post. Nothing had changed. Jack would still be better off without the prince, and Angus wouldn’t have anyone else on his conscience when—inevitably—he tainted those around him.

 

~~~

 

Persistent knocking on the door roused Angus from his light doze. Confused, he dragged himself out of bed to answer.

“Your Highness.”

Angus rubbed his eyes and blinked fuzzily at the footman. “Yes?”

“His Grace requires your immediate presence.”

“Now?” The prince yawned. “Are you sure?”

“Your Highness.” The footman’s voice was still perfectly correct, but his demeanor betrayed a hint of impatience. “I have just come from His Grace.”

“Of course.” Angus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from apologizing to a servant, and compromised with, “I will come at once.”

He glanced down the hall. Breland was watching them desultorily, his usual bored expression mingled with what appeared to be irritation, perhaps that he would be left guarding a basically empty corridor until the prince returned from his tutor. Angus found himself wishing Jack were awake. It felt like a long time since he had gone anywhere unaccompanied, and though Groves led him through the darkened castle, he would have preferred to be following Jack.

“What does His Grace require?” he asked, hurrying to catch up to Groves. The footman was taking the shortest route, which also meant it was through the darkest passageways.

Groves turned and, for the first time since Angus had known him, looked the boy directly in the eyes. “His Grace requires nothing… _Your Highness_.”

The icy tone froze Angus to the spot before self-preservation instincts began screaming at him to run. He whirled to flee, but an arm caught him around the waist and one hand covered his mouth.

“Scream all you like, royal brat,” the footman hissed. “No one will hear you. And if they did, you know that no one would care.”

“No,” Angus tried to shout, fighting against the firm hold.

The arm around his midsection moved up to his neck. “One more sound, and I cut off your air.”

Angus could feel the pressure on his windpipe increasing. He stilled.

“There’s a good little prince.” Groves removed his hand from the child’s mouth to seize his arm and begin dragging him forward.

“You—you won’t kill me,” Angus said, trying to sound confident, scrabbling at his ring with his thumb, twisting it to try to loosen it.

“And why is that?” The footman spoke with silky calm.

“You need me alive. F-for ransom.”

Groves chuckled. “Is that what you think?” They had reached an outside door. “We’re going out, brat, and if you make a sound, a dead prince is just as useful as a live one. Remember that.”

“Wh-who’s _we_?”

The footman’s fingers were around his throat in a second, squeezing hard enough to cause black spots to dance in the boy’s vision. “I said _not a sound_. Or I can snap your neck right now and save us the trouble.”

Angus managed to shake his head, and after a long moment, the grip on his throat slackened. Angus gasped in lungfuls of air, head swimming, tears streaming unchecked.

Groves half-dragged, half-carried the boy out into the coolness of the night. Angus ceased the useless struggling, focusing on getting enough oxygen and just managing to slip the ring off his finger as they exited the castle.

The footman knew the palace routines as well as the prince did—better, in fact, since Angus was never permitted outside his quarters at night. There wasn’t another soul around, and Groves was probably right. No one would care even if they did see the young royal being manhandled this way. While the castle guards would intervene if they knew the MacGyver heir was being kidnapped, if Angus couldn’t manage to call for help, they would simply assume the footman was acting on orders from Duke Lemière.

Lemière himself was almost certainly sound asleep with no inkling of his messenger’s intentions. The tutor wouldn’t notice the prince’s absence until tomorrow, and even then, it would take a while for the absentminded gentleman to recognize something was amiss.

Breland knew the prince had left his chambers, but the guard wouldn’t do anything. Even if Angus didn’t return by morning, the watchman would probably just shrug it off as something that wasn’t his problem.

Wilt would know immediately that something was wrong, Angus tried to encourage himself. But dawn was hours away, and it would take time after the valet discovered Angus was missing for anyone to listen to the boy.

Except for Jack. Angus felt a growing warmth overtaking the fear in his stomach. Wilt would get Jack, who would believe him instantly, and Jack would start searching for him without delay, without hesitation. And he wouldn’t rest until he found his royal charge.

He just had to get through tonight. If he could keep his captors calm until morning, Jack would come for him.

Groves had reached the wall surrounding the castle grounds. He took a cautious look around and whistled. After a hushed moment, a shape dropped from a tree, landing so near the pair that both jumped.

“Not even gagged?” The newcomer eyed the prince critically, his voice disapproving.

“He knows not to scream,” Groves responded defensively, his hand tightening on the boy’s throat again. Angus willed himself not to resist, to appear compliant. “See, Reggie? Weak as a kitten, this one.”

Reggie grunted and produced a leather strap. “Even so.”

Angus saw his hands approaching and tried to duck away, only for Groves to jab a fist into a kidney. The boy arched his back and gasped in pain. Before he could cry out, the leather was forced into his mouth and tied around the back of his head. His hands were just as swiftly secured behind his back.

“There. Leave the brat’s feet for now,” Reggie directed. “Get him over the wall, and we’ll bind him up then.”

No. If they got him over the wall, they could take him anywhere. Angus lashed out, kicking behind him and catching Groves in the knee. With an oath, the man released his hold, and Angus tore loose.

He made it only two steps before Reggie tackled him, slamming him hard against the wall. Angus felt blood spurt from his nose.

“Didn’t my cousin explain to you, brat?” Reggie hissed. “A dead prince is just as useful as a live one.”

Groves limped up, still cursing. “Stupid brat thinks he’s worth _ransom_.” Both men chuckled in a way that raised goosebumps on the boy’s arms.

“Ransom? You think anyone would give up gold to get you back, boy?” Reggie was still laughing cruelly. “The only thing you’re good for is bait. Your father will have to return if his precious heir is missing, won’t he?”

Angus shook his head hopelessly. King James wouldn’t interrupt his trip for such a minor inconvenience as a misplaced son.

“And if _that_ doesn’t work…he’ll certainly return for the prince’s funeral.”

Angus felt his blood run cold.

“Think he’s got the message this time,” Groves said, satisfied at the boy’s terror.

“Get him up.”

The two cousins moved quickly, using ropes to haul Angus up into the tree and then working in tandem to toss him over the wall. Angus figured he should be grateful they caught him and didn’t just let him fall to the ground.

Any shred of gratitude disappeared when his abductors dragged him to a mule with a trunk fastened to its back.

Reggie checked his bonds and tied his ankles together while Groves pulled the trunk to the ground.

“Your ride, _Your Highness_ ,” Groves smirked, eyes alight with malice.

Angus tried to struggle, tried to get away, but the cords holding him in place were tight. He was unceremoniously picked up and dumped in the cramped trunk, the lid slamming shut.

_No, no, no, no, no…_

Angus kicked his feet desperately, but the space was too small for him to swing hard enough to cause any damage. Not that he would have been able to. The wooden chest was solid, and Angus could hear chains snaking around it as he was tumbled end over end, the two men casually rolling the trunk to fasten the shackles, unworried about the cargo inside.

This was even worse than the closet. At least when his father punished him, he hadn’t had his hands or feet bound. At least he hadn’t been gagged. At least the closet wasn’t airtight…

The boy’s eyes widened as this last thought hit him. Would he be able to breathe in this prison? He threw himself in a frantic circle, searching for any hint of light coming through a hole in the wood, but if there were a crack, the starless night revealed no gleam.

In a panic, Angus heaved himself at the sides of the trunk, not heeding the bruises forming on his arms and shoulders. He screamed through the leather strap in his mouth, knowing no one could hear him but unable to stop himself.

A boot thumped on the top of the trunk. “Settle,” a harsh voice warned. Reggie. “You knock yourself off Jenny, and I’ll just run you through with an arrow.”

Angus felt the trunk rising in the air and landing in a position that felt precarious. He held in his sobs and heard ropes sliding along the chest, presumably securing it to the mule. That meant he was being taken even farther from the castle.

He inhaled experimentally. Though his broken nose throbbed, he could still breathe, which either meant that air was getting in or he just hadn’t used it all yet. Angus forced himself to relax as much as possible in the cramped space. He had learned long ago that moving less meant less pain; for once, his father’s lessons might do him some good.

As the mule started its jerking walk, Angus began counting. He would probably never have a chance to call for help, much less tell someone how far he was being taken, but it gave him something to focus on.

He reached three hundred thirty-four paces before he blacked out.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack shifted restlessly on his narrow bed. Something didn’t feel right.

No, he didn’t suspect Breland of active ill-intentions toward Angus, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Wilt would never do anything to harm his friend, and right now, they were the only two with access to the prince’s chambers. Angus was safe. Jack could get some rest— _should_ get some rest so he could spend tomorrow hunting down the filth that had tried to harm his boy.

But he couldn’t sleep.

After over an hour of tossing and turning, Jack gave up, automatically buckling his sword belt as he strode toward the door. In the hall, he barely gave Breland a glance before approaching the prince’s quarters.

“No one is to enter after dark,” Breland forestalled him.

Jack raised an eyebrow, appreciating that the night watchman was actually doing his job. However…

“I must speak with the prince.” Jack imbued his voice with authority.

Breland shrugged. “Royal brat isn’t there anyway.”

“What?” Jack managed to refrain from asking why the hell Breland hadn’t led with that information.

“He’s with his tutor.”

“He’s… _what_?”

Breland was studying the embroidery on his tunic, clearly bored again. “His Grace sent for him.”

“When?” Jack demanded, a little too harshly.

The other knight looked up in mild astonishment. “Perhaps an hour ago. What is so urgent—”

“Not your concern,” Jack snapped, and Breland shrugged again.

Jack forced his steps to be measured as he moved back down the hall. “I will…make sure he is accompanied back.”

Breland’s eyes flicked disinterestedly. “My shift is done at dawn,” he warned, as though Jack planned to abandon his post.

Jack didn’t reply. If he weren’t back to relieve Breland, it wouldn’t matter. Jack wouldn’t return until Angus did.

As soon as Jack was around the corner, he broke into a flat-out run, heading up to the tutor’s study. He tried to tell himself that while this was unusual, it was nothing to fear, but he wouldn’t calm down until he could see the young prince for himself.

The study was dark.

Jack spun in a wild circle, his thoughts whirling at the same pace. Could he have been wrong about Lemière? Would that kindly old gentleman really—

No. Jack couldn’t believe it. But then…

The instant the thought occurred to him, Jack cursed himself for his blindness. _Groves_.

Breland had said the tutor _sent for_ Angus. Groves was known to be Lemière’s favorite messenger. No one would have questioned his word.

There was one bright spot. If Groves had wanted the prince dead, he wouldn’t have bothered taking him from his quarters. Right?

Of course, there had already been two attempts on the prince’s life. The adder had been put in place by someone with access to the prince’s rooms, someone who knew the boy entered his chambers alone at night. Groves.

And Groves had been the one to send Jack and Angus out into the palace grounds earlier today; he was possibly aware of the prince’s favorite haunts. But Groves couldn’t have been the archer. Which meant he had a partner.

Jack felt renewed hope. If there was a partner, Groves might be taking Angus to him. So maybe there was a chance he was still—

Of course he was still alive. Jack wouldn’t let himself think otherwise.

He took a second to consult his mental map of the palace. If he were trying to get a boy outside without being seen, the shortest route from the prince’s chambers…

Jack wheeled and plunged headlong through the passageways.

For the first time in years, Jack found himself appreciating King James. The man was a terrible father, but he was brilliant and slightly paranoid, good qualities for a royal who wished to remain alive. When King James had built this palace at the beginning of his reign, he had consulted with the architect himself. Jack had been only a squire then, but he vaguely remembered the remarks that crisscrossed the kingdom, criticizing the choices the king was making. The architect had wanted many more open, arched entrances, but the king had been adamant that there be a limited number of egresses, all of which could be defended if need be.

This meant there were a limited number of exits for Groves to have used to escape with Angus. At a juncture, Jack debated between two diverging halls, thinking that Groves probably had the guard rotation memorized. In that case, the footman would have headed for the door farthest from the guard tower where the night watchmen started their rounds.

Jack prowled along the silent passage, searching in the shadows between the wall torches for any hint that Angus had been through here.

The hall was as blank as a tomb.

The knight was wondering if he should try a different exit when a flicker of light caught his eye. He grabbed a torch from the wall and moved closer.

Gold. Jack pounced on the tiny object. It was the prince’s signet ring.

Jack felt an overwhelming sense of relief and affection. The ring was valuable. Groves was not likely to have abandoned it had he known it was here. Which meant Angus was conscious, alert enough—and still smart enough—to leave a clue behind.

The boy was counting on Jack to come rescue him.

The knight eased open the door, more hopeful and more determined, and immediately noticed the scuffed earth outside. He studied the blur of footprints in the dim light of his torch, identifying two people, one adult and one child.

Angus.

Heart in his throat, Jack followed the marks on the ground.

 

~~~

 

Jack was an expert tracker and could follow a trail even in the dark, but he didn’t need expertise at first. Groves hadn’t been able to disguise his path, preoccupied with dragging his prisoner. Although each second felt like an hour to Jack, he was soon at the castle wall, reading the story told in the dirt.

The partner had joined them here, leaping down from a tree. Probably the archer. The two men had faced each other, and then…Jack felt another burst of pride. Angus had fought back. He’d gotten away.

Jack’s hope was snuffed out when he spied the fresh blood on the wall, exactly head-high to the prince.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed at the image of Angus at the mercy of two killers, head cracked open and bleeding…

He forced himself to focus. Angus was braver than any child he’d ever met, even more tenacious than any soldier Jack had known. If anyone could survive, it was Angus. Jack just had to get to him.

It took very little time to determine the route the kidnappers had taken over the wall. (Really, a corner of Jack’s mind criticized, that tree should have been removed ages ago—it was too close to the wall for security.) As much as Jack wanted to scramble over the wall and start searching for Angus immediately, he knew he needed to report to the captain of the guard, to get help in case the two abductors had more friends waiting for them outside.

Jack raced to the guard tower and presented himself to the night captain.

“A—His Highness Prince Angus has been abducted,” he blurted without preamble.

The captain blinked slowly, taking a sip of what smelled like mead from the mug in his hand. “Is that so?” he finally said. “The royal brat is your responsibility, is he not?”

Jack ground his teeth, not bothering to make excuses. “He has been taken outside the castle grounds. I need men and horses to go after him.”

The captain raised his eyebrows. “ _You_ need…? How can you be sure he isn’t simply hiding somewhere? Playing a practical joke, perhaps.”

“There was _blood on the wall_.” Jack wondered why he had thought it would be a good idea to take the time asking for help.

“That could be from anything.” The captain waved a dismissive hand.

Before Jack could throttle the man, a new voice interrupted. “Sir Dalton is well known to be an excellent tracker, Captain.”

Jack spun around. The newcomer rode a horse and wore the banner of the mounted patrol. He leaned down to the tired-looking squire at his side.

“Charlie, go fetch a horse for Sir Dalton.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy bolted in the direction of the stables.

The captain was frowning now. “Perhaps I can spare a half dozen men to search the grounds. The brat is probably sneaking around somewhere, laughing at all of us.”

Jack gave one more try. “Captain, we need to search _outside_ the castle walls.”

“I’m not waking men from well-deserved slumber for a wild-goose chase.”

“Captain,” the mounted soldier interjected, as his squire approached on horseback. “Sir Dalton and I could go while the others search the grounds.”

The captain squinted up at him. “Your shift is finished now, Peña.”

“I am volunteering. You will not need to wake anyone else.” Peña nodded at his squire, who dismounted and handed the reins to Jack, who took them a bit dazedly. “You need only open the gates for us, Captain. With your permission, of course.”

After another pull of mead that appeared to drain the mug, the captain flapped his hand at the gatekeeper.

“Off to bed with you, Charlie,” Peña said quietly. “Good work today.”

The boy nodded, and Jack just had the presence of mind to thank him for the horse.

“I hope you find him,” the squire said, his voice sweet and sincere.

For the first time since he’d discovered the prince’s absence, Jack smiled. “We will, lad,” he assured, swinging up into the saddle. The two soldiers rode through the open gate.

 

~~~

 

Jack led the way to the outside of the wall where Angus had been taken.

“Sir…Peña? Thank you.”

The other knight smiled. “Of course, Sir Dalton.”

Jack hesitated and then asked bluntly, “Why are you helping?” His hand twitched toward the pommel of his sword as it occurred to him that Groves might not be the only one in the castle with designs on the prince.

Peña saw the movement and raised his hands slightly. “I was…interested.”

“Interested in what?”

“You, Sir Dalton. You have a reputation, you know.”

Jack cocked his head.

“I was not always assigned to the palace guard. Our regiments never crossed, but you know how stories are spread.”

Jack did know, all too well. “So?”

Peña shrugged. “It made me wonder why a knight such as yourself would choose to play nursemaid to a child, who, by all accounts, is nearly a halfwit.”

Jack clenched his fists, remembering the stories King James had told to explain away his lack of interest in his own son.

“But he isn’t, is he?” Peña continued meditatively. “Since I have been here, I have seen him walking with you. He seems…remarkably alert for a boy the king declared incompetent.”

Jack didn’t trust himself to speak.

“You already knew that, didn’t you? Before you took this position.”

“A knight goes where he is assigned. The king—”

Peña shook his head. “You forget that before I was moved here—thanks to some shrapnel—” The knight gestured at his leg. “—I was on the front lines too. I’m sure no one else has pieced it together, but I believe you asked for dismissal before the king installed you as the prince’s bodyguard.”

Jack drew his sword in a swift movement. “What is it you want?” he hissed.

“Nothing.” Peña sounded surprised. “I’m just interested in what kind of royal could make Sir Jack Dalton leave the heat of battle. Prince Angus must be…quite something.” The knight patted his horse’s neck. “Well worth losing a few hours’ sleep.”

They had arrived at the spot the two kidnappers had dropped from the wall with their captive. Jack frowned at the tracks, tracing them to the road. Peña followed silently.

Jack grunted in frustration. The road was well-traveled enough that he couldn’t be sure which way they had gone.

“We can split up. Check at least as far as the nearest towns,” Peña offered. “So far, it looks like only two of them.”

Jack thought for a second. Groves had taken the prince shortly after he had gone to bed, as though he were expecting to have the whole night to make his escape. So maybe it was just the two kidnappers, and if they rode hard, either Jack or Peña could catch up with them.

Before agreeing, he speared the other knight with his gaze. “I need to know you intend no harm to the prince.” But even as he spoke, he was remembering the gentleness with which Peña had spoken to his young squire.

“I swear on my life, Sir Dalton. I wish him returned safely, that is all.”

Jack nodded sharply, and the two men turned away from each other.

“And, Dalton…” Peña spoke over his shoulder. “Your regard for the prince is not a bad thing. But no one shall hear of it from me.” He flicked the reins, and his horse broke into a gallop.

It took Jack a minute to collect his wits and guide his horse in the opposite direction.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: barest hint of a mention of human trafficking; deaths of two minor (not very bright) original characters (extremely non-graphic)

Angus heard muffled voices as he drifted into consciousness.

“We can’t afford to take a break. We need to move faster.”

“Reggie, I told you that nobody’ll even be looking for him until morning!”

“He has a bodyguard, doesn’t he? All royals do.”

“Only during the day. He was in his own sleeping quarters. The night watchman thinks he’s with his tutor, and he won’t care to check. I’m telling you, we’re fine!”

There was silence, and then Angus heard Reggie sigh. “Can’t risk stopping. The guards have got to be on high alert now.”

“Well, if you’d just _hit_ the kid—I thought you were supposed to be a great marksman!”

“Not my fault the knight ended up in that stupid trap you dug instead of the brat.”

“Hey, I got them over there, didn’t I? They totally believed it when I said _His Grace_ didn’t need the kid for the day.”

“Yeah, all right.” Reggie sounded grudging. “But if your little trick with the adder had worked, we wouldn’t have needed to try anything else.”

“That was never a sure thing.” Groves sounded insulted. “You knew that. Said it was worth trying because it could never get traced back to me or you.”

“Fine. We’ve got him now, that’s the important thing.”

“Why don’t we just kill him, Reggie? King James’ll definitely come back for the funeral, and then we have a shot at him.”

Angus held his breath.

“Yeah, we will if we have to. But I told you—after I saw him, I knew our friends up north would pay good money for a handsome lad like him, especially one of royal blood.”

“But I thought—”

“If we can find another boy about his size, let him loose with some wild boars…”

“Everyone would think the prince was dead!”

Angus shivered.

“Exactly. We just have to get him to a hiding spot for a while. Should get there in no more than a couple hours.”

“Why couldn’t we have taken some horses?”

“That would attract too much attention. If anyone sees us, we’re just poor travelers.”

The two men were on foot, then, Angus thought. That was useful to know. If they expected to reach their hideout before dawn, it couldn’t be that many miles distant from the palace. And from the steady gait of the mule beneath him, Angus guessed they were staying on the road, which the cousins probably thought was safe since the prince was gagged and couldn’t call for help if they did happen to meet someone.

It would still be a wide search area when Jack learned that Angus was missing, but it wasn’t as wide as it could have been.

The boy struggled fruitlessly against the bonds again. His hands and feet weren’t aching so much, so perhaps the cords had loosened a bit.

No. Angus realized his limbs had just gone numb. The ropes around him were as tight as ever. He wished that he hadn’t removed Jack’s knife—his knife now—before getting into bed.

His breathing was starting to accelerate, his broken nose throbbing painfully, and Angus felt himself growing lightheaded. He needed to keep himself from panicking. Although it sounded like his captors had a use for him alive after all, he didn’t doubt that they would let him perish in this box if it suited them. At least air must be getting in somehow, or he would be dead already.

Angus tried not to think about the sides of the trunk closing in on him. He let his mind wander, grasping for good memories to calm him.

He barely remembered his mother. He had a vague mental picture of her, but more often than not, it morphed into the portrait that had been painted when she was crowned queen, the one hanging in the great hall. He had a nebulous feeling of warmth connected to her, but his clearest memory of his mother was of her funeral,

Angus thought half-hysterically that perhaps he would join his mother in the crypt soon.

 _Stop it_ , he scolded himself. _Jack will come._

Angus remembered Jack promising to return, that morning so long ago, when he had vowed to find a way to protect Angus from his father. And he had done exactly as he’d said, bringing three nobles back with him, three nobles who told the king they were concerned about the prince. And it had worked. King James had washed his hands of his son.

It wasn’t Jack’s fault the king had ruthlessly plotted their demise.

Angus wished he could have the chance to tell Jack he didn’t mean it. He didn’t blame Jack for their deaths. He’d been pushing Jack away, trying to protect the knight who cared about him more than was safe, more than he deserved…

But Jack had promised to protect the prince.

Jack believed Angus was…special. Remarkable. Extraordinary. He believed the boy was worth sacrifice, that he deserved loyalty.

Jack had said he would ask for reassignment because that’s what Angus led him to believe he wanted. Angus wondered if it was too late to ask him to stay.

“Who’s that?”

Angus perked up at Reggie’s brusque question. Upon straining his ears, he, too, heard the hoofbeats.

“Remember our story,” Reggie hissed, and Groves made a noise of assent.

Angus felt the mule halt as the lone rider galloped closer. The prince readied himself. Maybe if the traveler stopped to talk, he could draw attention by kicking at the sides of the trunk. Then he reconsidered. His abductors would probably not hesitate to kill an interfering stranger. A traveler by himself at this time of night wouldn’t be missed for hours.

Angus couldn’t cause the death of another innocent. He kept still.

“Hail, friend!” Angus heard Reggie call with false heartiness.

The hoofbeats grew even louder, but there was no answering shout.

“Reggie!” Groves voice was nearly a squeak. “It’s that knight!”

Angus heard a grunt and the twanging of a bow being hastily notched, and then the whinnying of a horse drowned out other sounds until there was a crashing like the splintering of wood.

There was a heavy thud and a squeal—Groves, Angus thought, although he couldn’t be sure—and a roar that was unmistakably Jack.

And then silence.

Angus wriggled anxiously, listening as hard as he could. He heard hesitant footsteps, and then a light tap on the trunk.

“Angus?”

 _Jack_. The prince nearly wept in relief, humming as loudly as he could through the gag.

Another tap. “Your Highness?”

He wasn’t loud enough through the heavy chest. Angus forced his stiff legs to kick at the side of the trunk. He couldn’t feel the impact, but he heard the noise and hoped Jack could too.

“Okay, kiddo, that’s good.” Jack’s voice switched from terrified to soothing in a heartbeat. “I’ll get you down off there. Just hold tight.”

This time, when the trunk was moved, it was with extreme care, and Angus wasn’t jostled much.

“Hm, okay.” Jack fussed to himself and then seemed to recall that he should encourage the boy. “I bet if you were here instead of me, you’d have this thing sprung in no time. I’ll never forget how you twisted open that closet lock. You remember that? But I need to find a key. Give me just a second, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Angus couldn’t respond, but he lay back contentedly. Of course Jack was coming back. He always did.

He heard Jack muttering curses as he struggled with the locks, but then the chains clattered away, the lid was thrown open, and cool night air rushed in.

“ _Angus_.”

Large, calloused hands brushed tentatively against his cheeks, finding the end of the strap and removing the gag. Angus frantically gulped in the fresh air.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Jack wiped at his cheeks again. Angus looked up, too relieved to be embarrassed, and he saw Jack was crying too. Jack reached for him again, gently combing his fingers through the blond hair as though searching for something on the boy’s scalp. Angus closed his eyes to better enjoy the feather-light touch.

He heard Jack mutter under his breath, “ _Thank God_.” He opened his eyes when Jack’s hands moved away.

“I’ll get you out of there first, all right? Then I can cut you loose.”

Angus moved his mouth but couldn’t make a sound.

“Don’t try to talk yet. Just…can you let me know? Are you badly hurt? Can I pick you up? Do I need to be careful of any injuries?”

It was too many questions to answer nonverbally. Angus tried canting his head toward the sky, hoping Jack would take the hint and get him out of the cramped box.

The boy’s muscles screamed in protest as he was moved, and his gasp was sharp enough to make Jack flinch.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, kid.”

Angus shook his head, trying to let Jack know he didn’t hold it against him.

“Let’s get those ropes off you, okay?” Jack produced a knife from a sheath on his calf and made short work of the cords. “I wish I could tell you the worst is over, but those pins and needles will get pretty bad.”

Angus flopped on the ground, unable to move, and Jack took both his hands in his own, rubbing them gently.

“You take all the time you need, okay? You’re safe now. When you get feeling back in your hands and feet, then we’ll head home, not before, all right?”

Jack sprang to his feet when Angus tried to talk again, retrieving a canteen from his horse.

“Here. Slowly.”

Angus sipped at the water the knight offered him, Jack’s arm around his shoulders bracing him.

As soon as he could talk, Angus whispered, “Thank you.”

Jack nodded. “You can have more in a bit. Let me check on your feet first.”

Angus tried to hold his feet still, but they were twitching as the blood flow returned. Jack looked worried and said they would have the royal physical examine him when they got back to the castle, but Angus could already tell there was no permanent damage.

“I meant thank you for saving me,” the boy rasped when Jack held him up for another drink.

Jack froze. “You…never have to thank me for that, Angus.”

Angus kept staring, trying to accept the reality of the presence of his hero. “How—how did you find me?”

Jack’s shoulders relaxed. “How do you think?” he asked, an affectionate reproach. “ _You_ helped me.”

The prince just shook his head, unable to take in the words.

“Yes. You, my brave, smart, _resourceful_ prince…you left me a clue.” Jack dug in his vest and produced a small ring of gold.

“You found it,” Angus breathed.

“Just where you left it.” Jack was smiling fondly, and he reached for the prince’s hand where the indentation from the ring still marked his finger.

Angus knew there was more to the story—that single clue wasn’t enough to have led all the way here—but he was too tired to press.

“No.” He didn’t want to pull his hand out of Jack’s, so he curled his fingers instead.

“You don’t want it?” Jack cocked his head. “I suppose it isn’t required for you to wear it, but—”

“No.” Angus coughed again, and Jack immediately held the canteen so he could take another drink. “I want—you to have it.”

Jack was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice trembled. “Your Highness, I cannot—”

“Yes,” Angus insisted. “I _want_ you to.” He realized what Jack might be thinking. “It isn’t—payment or—or reward or anything. I just…” He thought of the knife that he had worn for the past several days, the one that made him feel like Jack was nearby even when they were separated. He wanted Jack to have something of his, but he wasn’t sure how to say so.

“I…” Jack cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “If you’re sure, Your Highness, I will treasure it always.”

“I’m sure.”

Angus watched as Jack reverently tucked the small object back into his inner pocket.

Pain shot through his limbs as more feeling returned, and Angus tried to distract himself by carefully looking around. “What happened—” The mule was cropping grass at the side of the road, and the prince could make out the shadowed forms of two bodies on the ground. He shuddered.

“Hey, it’s okay. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Grim satisfaction colored Jack’s features. “They won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

It was too much. Angus rolled onto his side, huddled into a ball, and sobbed.

“Angus.” He felt himself being lifted. “Angus, Angus, shh, it’s all right.”

He was pulled close into something warm and solid. Jack.

“J-J—” He was crying too hard to speak.

“It’s all right,” Jack murmured again, rocking back and forth. Angus felt the scratch of stubble as Jack kissed his forehead, his temple, his hair. And then Angus could feel Jack’s tears falling too.

Out on a lonely road on a starless night, with only a horse, a mule, and the corpses of two kidnappers for company, Angus let himself cling to Jack, weeping until he couldn’t any more.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of human corpses (non-graphic)

Jack held the boy until his arms ached but still couldn’t let go. Even as the cries finally slowed, Jack continued to kiss the top of the boy’s head, to stroke a hand over his hair, to rub his back as he rocked.

He had known he would die for the prince. He should have realized he would kill for him too.

He adjusted the sword on his hip further away from the child in his lap, thankful it was dark enough that Angus probably couldn’t see the hastily wiped blade or the smears of blood on the scabbard.

When Angus began coughing again, Jack finally moved enough to grab the canteen and offer the boy more water.

“Easy, son. Take it easy,” he cooed.

Angus released the water and turned to bury his face in Jack’s chest, whimpering when he bumped his nose.

“Probably broken, huh?”

Angus nodded.

“Okay. Not much I can do for that, but I can get the blood off your face, and we’ll tell the physician, all right?”

Angus flexed his fingers experimentally and then tightened his hand in Jack’s tunic.

Jack smiled, swiping at the moisture in his eyes. “You’ll be all right.”

“Jack?”

“Mm?”

“What’s going to happen—I mean, what about…them?”

Jack followed the gesture and winced, curving his body further around the prince as though to shield him from the unpleasant sight.

“I’m…not sure, buddy.” As far as Jack was concerned, the bodies could burn where they were, but he didn’t say so.

“Need to take them back.”

Jack nodded reluctantly. “I suppose. Could load them up on the mule here—”

“Jenny.”

Jack’s lips quirked. “All right. Jenny. But…” Jack didn’t want to say that there was no way he was hauling the bodies of the two men while the prince was there. “Peña _might_ come…”

“Who’s Peña?”

“A knight. He was helping me look for you.” Jack smiled again and threaded his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“Where is he?”

“He went the other way down the road. Probably made it to town by now and should be on his way back.”

“Will he know to come find you?”

Jack sighed. The kid was just too smart. “Probably not until he goes back to the palace first.” And even then, Jack wasn’t sure how much information anyone would offer the knight.

“We need a way to signal him.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “You got any ideas?”

“Mm. Need to think.” The prince’s head tipped forward tiredly, and Jack tucked him under his chin.

“That’s all right, son. You take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can’t use smoke signals,” Angus said blearily. “Too dark. Or mirrors.”

“Mm-hm,” Jack hummed, resuming his rocking.

“Has to be fire, then.”

Jack chuckled. “You want to light the forest on fire? That’d bring guards from all over, straight to us.”

The hand in his collar twisted. “Straight…an arrow! Jack, we could light an arrow on fire, and you could shoot it straight up so Peña would see it!”

“Um, not that I don’t believe you, kid, but how exactly—”

“Reggie had a bow.”

“Reggie? That was his name?”

Angus paid no attention to the interruption, trying to peer over Jack’s shoulder without moving from his comfortable spot.

“Well, bad news on that front.” Jack hated to dampen the boy’s excitement. “He drew on me—not very smart, you know, that close range—so I might have kind of broken his bow.” Jack didn’t mention the blind rage that had consumed him when he’d come upon Groves and his co-conspirator.

“Where is it? Maybe I can fix it.”

Reluctantly, Jack stood and put Angus down, holding him a minute more as he tested that his feet would support him. “I’ll find it. You stay right here. Okay?”

To Jack’s relief, the boy agreed quickly.

Jack found the bow, scowling at the cracked upper limb, and gathered the few arrows he could see.

When he returned, Angus was scrounging in the saddlebags, turning and holding a small bottle triumphantly.

“What is it?” Jack asked curiously.

“Neatsfoot oil.” Angus was already reaching for the bow.

Jack relinquished the weapon. “You want to oil the saddle right now?”

Angus ignored him, but Jack had learned the boy wasn’t being rude. He was just concentrating. Jack watched as the prince carefully bound the broken limb with the cords that had tied his feet.

“I think this will hold,” Angus said hesitantly. “For the one arrow, at least.” He offered the bow to Jack.

Jack tested the bow string carefully. “Probably enough for one shot,” he agreed. “But how—?”

Angus was already rubbing the oil into the leather strap that had been used to gag him. “You have an arrow?”

Jack passed it to him. “I feel like I’m watching a wizard at work here.”

The prince smiled. “If I wrap the leather around the arrowhead, you can use the torch to set it on fire. It should burn long enough to be seen when you shoot it into the air.” He handed the finished product to the knight. “Here.”

Jack nodded. “I trust you, Angus. But you need to stand well back, all right?”

Angus shuffled a few steps away without complaint.

Jack took a deep breath and notched the arrow. He held it close to the torch and waited. For several seconds, nothing happened.

Just as Jack was opening his mouth to ask if Angus was positive this would work, the arrow burst into flame, so suddenly that Jack nearly dropped it.

“Hurry, Jack!”

The knight aimed the arrow for the night sky and released. The head and then the shaft of the arrow glowed brightly, arcing in a brilliant curve before darkening to ash.

“He’ll see that for sure.” The boy’s eyes sparkled, more radiant than fire. “You did it, Jack.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I didn’t do anything, son. That was all you.”

 

~~~

 

The two waited patiently, content to bask in each other’s presence. Jack cleaned the blood from the prince’s face, whispering apologies each time he came near the broken nose. Both were exhausted by the time he was done, and Jack was delighted when Angus crawled into his lap with no hesitation and cuddled close.

“When Peña comes, he can deal with—that.” Jack waved a hand. “We’ll take the horse and get you home.” Jack’s voice was as light as a lullaby. “We’ll find the physician to look at your nose—”

“We don’t need to bother him,” Angus protested, surprising Jack, who had thought the prince was almost asleep.

“What?”

“I don’t need the physician.”

“Angus—”

“You said yourself there’s nothing to be done.”

“Angus—”

“It will heal on its own.”

“Angus!”

The boy shut his mouth.

Jack sighed and resumed rubbing the child’s back. “I don’t want to force you into anything. But I need to know for sure you’re all right. Can you please just let the physician examine you?”

Angus burrowed closer. “Okay, Jack,” he finally said in a small voice.

“Good boy.”

“Jack?”

Jack rested his cheek on top of the boy’s head. “Mm-hm?”

“I…I didn’t mean it when I said it was your fault.”

Jack looked down at the prince. “When you said what was my fault, bud?”

Angus was playing with the ties on Jack’s tunic. “You—you know. Th-the archives.”

Ohhh. Jack squeezed the boy tightly. “You weren’t wrong, Angus. I should have guessed—”

“No, Jack, you couldn’t know. You didn’t know my—the king. It was my fault for—”

“Absolutely not.” Jack imbued his voice with as much authority as he could muster. “That was not in the least bit your fault. And Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston would have been the first to tell you so.”

Angus was quiet for a while. “Jack?”

“Mm-hm?”

“I—you’ve always tried to protect me.”

When the boy didn’t continue, Jack agreed, a bit bewildered. “Of course, son. That’s my job.”

“I was trying to, too.”

“You—” Jack took a breath. “You were trying to protect me?”

Angus nuzzled deeper into Jack’s chest, muffling his voice. “Didn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

In the whirl of a kaleidoscope, the prince’s actions over the last few weeks shifted and settled into a new pattern. Suddenly, Jack understood.

“You are the most selfless person I know,” he said huskily. “But you don’t have to worry about me, son. I’m not going to be scared off by some nonsensical rule.”

Angus was silent for a long time. “I heard what you said to Wilt.”

“What I said to Wilt?”

“You—you wanted this job.”

“Oh. Yes, I did. More than anything.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jack laughed. “Because you are the most—the most incredible person I have ever met, Angus. Because you deserve the chance to grow up in safety so you can become—someone even more amazing.”

Angus was staring up at him as though the words were nectar from the gods. “No—no one else thinks that.”

Jack thought about Peña. “You may have more friends than you think, son. But no…I don’t think _anyone_ could care about you the way I do. I have ever since I met you, Angus, and I always will. I promised you that we’d be friends forever, and I meant it.” He hugged the child tightly.

“If—do you think, if we’re careful, and no one sees us, then maybe…”

When the hopeful voice trailed off, Jack completed the thought. “The king won’t find out. You know how to keep a secret, and so do I. We can be careful and still be friends.”

“If that’s true…then I’ll be safest with you.”

Jack’s breath caught. Was Angus saying…?

“Please, Jack. I—I know I don’t deserve it, but will you stay with—”

“Yes!” Jack clutched the child to his heart. “Yes, yes, yes. I will stay by your side forever, to the ends of the earth if you’ll let me.”

Angus wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and buried his face in Jack’s collar.

“You must know, my prince,” Jack whispered huskily, “that I will devote my life and my service to you and only to you. You have all my loyalty, Angus.”

Prince Angus smiled, nestled close to the warmth and safety of his friend, his protector, his guardian.

His knight.

“And you have all of mine, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Your comments have been so appreciated!
> 
> No guarantees when/if I can get to it, but suggestions for further works are always welcome. Much gratitude to you all and especially to just_another_outcast for this universe!


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